


Pizza for Dummies

by SilverCyanide (LemonFairy)



Series: A Peculiar Trio [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: E/R/É Shipping Festival, Genderqueer!Enjolras, Modern AU, Multi, OT3, Other, Trans!Eponine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2013-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-10 07:23:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/783369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LemonFairy/pseuds/SilverCyanide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Making pizza really shouldn't be that hard, but with these three it is. (Lots of fluffy domesticity.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pizza for Dummies

**Author's Note:**

> Because what do you call a fic about three great idiots attempting to make pizza? Another contribution to the E/R/É shipping festival.

Food for three shouldn’t be all that difficult, but somehow it really, really is.

For starters, none of them really knows how to cook. Éponine is the most skilled, because he’s had to cook for himself since a young age, but “skilled” means grilled cheese and omelets and sometimes a baked pasta dish. Grantaire, who’s had to feed himself for almost as many years as Éponine, can survive but the hardest thing he can make is spaghetti and if he’s being honest, he just prefers to eat toast for every meal. Then, of course, there is Enjolras, who forgets to eat so often that ze cannot be expected to know anything about cooking. Since going vegan just over four years ago, ze’s learned how to make a few mean salads, but Grantaire is opposed to anything overly green and won’t eat them without a lot of whining. To make things even more frustrating, Grantaire is mildly allergic to soy, and Éponine can’t consume gluten, so the three of them make an atrocious group to try and feed. The last time they went out to eat for date night, they’d gotten so frustrated they left, stopping by the store on their way home to pick up three different kinds of ice cream.

But tonight, with gorgeous spring weather floating through their kitchen window and a gallon of homemade iced tea already prepared, Éponine is determined to prepare a proper dinner the three of them can sit down to. And if it has to be pizza so that sometimes-a-toddler-R will eat it, well, Éponine is willing to work with that.

“The dough’s all the same,” he says when Enjolras studies the three flat ovals intently. “Promise.” Grantaire, who is never one to turn down any pizza, especially not one he gets to poke with his hands, starts to prod the dough with his fingers. Éponine swats them away. He can see that Enjolras is still questioning this (because  _cross contamination, Éponine, and what if I accidentally kill him or he puts something disgusting onto his pizza and accidentally kills me_ ), so to help speed things up he presses a quick kiss to Enjolras’ temple and clarifies, “I’ll put mine in the middle of the tray, all right?”

That seems to alleviate some fears, because ze relaxes and says, “Right. That’s good. I’ll take this one.” Ze reaches over to grab a spoon and knocks Grantaire’s arm away from the pizza dough he’s gone back to poking, and the three of them spread tomato sauce (which, though Enjolras surely knows is from a jar, ze will not complain about tonight; Éponine appreciates this) and top their own pizzas. Things  _should_  go smoothly, but it stands to reckon that if you give a Grantaire a spoon of tomato sauce, he’s going to want to fling it at everything.

Most people would expect Enjolras to be the controlled one in this situation, but as soon as a speck of tomato sauce hits zir face, ze is throwing back a handful of mushrooms. They land scattered on the counter, a few bouncing off of Grantaire’s head. Grantaire almost throws a piece of pepperoni back, but thinks better and decides to go with an olive instead. Enjolras hates olives almost as much as ze hates capitalism, which is great because zir nose wrinkles in the most adorable way and then Éponine can’t help himself and laughs. Then, ze tries to follow it up with a glare, and when that doesn’t stop Éponine’s laughter, ze looks conspiratorially toward Grantaire. Before Éponine can realize, two different types of cheese are landing in his hair. Immediately, his demeanor changes.

“Oh, you  _fuckers_ ,” Éponine mutters and a handful of chopped onions goes flying. They dissolve from there into an all out food fight, and by the time they’ve finished, most of the ingredients are on the floor, down Éponine’s shirt, or scattered over the counter and the three of them have collapsed into an exhausted, happy pile against the kitchen counter.

“All I wanted,” Éponine says, catching his breath now that Grantaire has stopped tickling him, “was a nice dinner you two. Is that  _really_ so hard?” Even though he sounds disgruntled, they can both hear the laughter in it. Enjolras lays zir head on his shoulder.

“With us? Yes. Absolutely.” Éponine rolls his eyes and flicks Enjolras’ free ear; zir hand comes up to clasp it and ze winces, but pokes Éponine in the ribs to make up for it. Grantaire is the one who stops them by practically crawling into Éponine’s lap and kissing him senseless. When it becomes clear Grantaire is purposely ignoring zir to tease, ze takes the opportunity to lean close and leave a hickey meant to be more pain that pleasure on Grantaire’s neck.

“You’re a bastard,” Grantaire groans as he pulls back from the kiss to rub a hand over the spot that’s already starting to bruise. Enjolras smirks.

“I try,” ze says happily. In retaliation, Éponine wraps his fist around Enjolras’ ridiculously long hair and tugs. Enjolras’ ‘ouch’ cannot be stifled. “Was that really necessary, Ép?”

“Yes,” he retaliates, but he looks pleased. “Now, you two are going to clean up this floor while I pick out all of the toppings that landed on our pizzas, and we are going to try this again.” Grantaire groans. Éponine flicks him in the forehead. Then, as added incentive, he leans forward to press a kiss to the spot; turns his head and pecks Enjolras on the lips; and stands up.

Reluctantly, Grantaire and Enjolras follow, and though both hate to admit it, their pizzas do turn out really, really good. So good, in fact, they might just have to do this again some time. 


End file.
